


Over and Over

by Stormchild



Category: X-Men (Ultimateverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1895478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormchild/pseuds/Stormchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were never in it for love, especially not at first. It was anger and sex and for the most part, it still is. But there’s a sort of sweetness, now, when they’re lying naked together.</p><p>Scott/Pietro one-shot, based in either X-Men: Evolution or Ultimate X-Men verse. NSFW as fuck.</p><p>Contains: Violence, down talk, light bondage, dd/lg talk, violent sex, dub con, brief nondescript Pietro/Charles, sort of implied mention of MagneTro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over and Over

There aren’t many soft, sweet moments between them. They were never in it for love, especially not at first. It was anger and sex and for the most part, it still is. But there’s a sort of sweetness, now, when they’re lying naked together, limbs locked together and pressing against bruises that are only just beginning to fade from Pietro’s skin but will linger on Scott’s for a good week.

He always forgets how strong Pietro is.

Pietro feels a soft kiss being pressed to the top of his head. He smiles a little, pressing a kiss of his own to the spot next to a fist-sized bruise on Scott’s chest. It’s the most of an apology he’s willing to give, especially when his lip is still split and he’s pretty sure his arm is cracked.

"I love you," Scott murmurs, because somewhere beneath the urge to strangle that pretty neck, he really does.

Pietro smiles, a little sadly, because despite the warmth in his chest, he still doesn’t quite believe it.

"You love the sex."

"Do you think I’d stay if that was it?"

"You’re still trying to keep me in check. Make sure I don’t step out of line."

"You don’t really think that."

Pietro props himself up on one elbow. The table lamp is on the floor but he can still make out the spot where Scott’s face came into contact with the kitchen counter.

"Then why don’t we go out? You’ve never taken me on a date."

"I haven’t?"

"Nope."

Scott frowns. He’s sure he must have, but he’s drawing a blank. The time they fucked on the kitchen table until it broke and then went down the block for falafels, hair still damp from shower sex, probably doesn’t count.

"Okay. I’ll take you out somewhere, then. Anywhere you want to go, you name it."

Scott wonders if he’s going to regret the offer. Pietro’s head comes down to rest on his chest again. He lets his fingers thread through silver hair, stroking gently.

"Well this new gallery opened up downtown. I’ve been meaning to check it out."

"You want me to take you to an art gallery?"

"I’m not so vain that I won’t look at other people’s art, Summers."

"Could’ve fooled me."

Pietro scowls until Scott kisses his mouth. He’s vain and selfish and somehow Scott loves it.

—

He’s late. Scott’s never late but today he is. It’s always hard to wait, even for a few minutes. But an hour goes by and Pietro’s sure this counts as late.

There’s a buzz from his pocket indicating a text message from Scott.

'Crisis in Taipei. Won't be able to make it. I'll make it up to you.'

Pietro decides that he won’t wear the high heels and panties that Scott likes for a week. He goes to the gallery alone and leaves with a sculptor who glides his hands over Pietro’s skin as if it’s marble and stares like he thinks Pietro belongs in a museum.

By the time Scott gets home, Pietro is fast asleep and covered in hickeys. Jealousy flares in his gut and he has half a mind to wake him up and fuck him until the neighbors complain about the noise.

—

They’re fighting again. Scott isn’t really sure about what anymore. It doesn’t really matter.

There’s a new painting on the wall, Pietro’s signature scrawled across the bottom right corner. He’s proud of it. The colors look odd to Scott - they always do - but it’s good.

Scott’s screaming and Pietro’s screaming back, saying the most cutting things that only Pietro can. And suddenly, he hates Pietro and he hates the stupid painting that Pietro spent so many hours on. He can’t say what makes him do it but he grabs it off the wall and smashes it. The shriek he hears makes him feel better.

Pietro punches him in the face, locks himself in the bathroom, and spends the rest of the night crying. Scott falls asleep next to the door waiting for him to come out.

When he finally does, it’s morning. Scott blows him and makes him breakfast but maybe not in that order. He isn’t sure that it helps.

—

When Pietro doesn’t retaliate even a week later, Scott gets anxious. He tries to tell himself that he probably isn’t that mad anymore. But Pietro’s still refusing to wear the strappy black stilettos and the white panties with the red bow on the back that makes his ass and legs look like dessert, even though it’s been more than a week since the gallery. Scott misses them. He almost starts to get hard just thinking about it.

Scott makes himself shake it off. This is definitely not the time to imagine bending the speedster over the kitchen counter and peeling off those panties. He can practically taste the whip cream he wants to lick off those legs. Maybe Pietro will wear them again if he begs. He isn’t above begging if it means he gets to see those legs flexing from the shoes.

He raps his knuckles against the heavy, wooden door and reminds himself that there’s a telepath on the other side.

"Just a mom- ah… moment.”

Scott frowns and knocks again.

"Professor? Is everything alright in there?"

"Everything is f- ine, Scott. I just need a- moment.”

Concerned, Scott presses his ear to the door. He can hear heavy breathing and muffled sounds that may or may not be moans. He sincerely hopes it’s the latter. He doesn’t want to think about his mentor having sex. And he definitely doesn’t want to think about who he might be having sex with. He considers leaving but he has something important for the professor.

And, okay, maybe he’s a little curious.

Scott isn’t sure who he’s expecting. But when the door opens, he sees one of the last people he’s expecting.

"He’s all yours," Pietro purrs.

And Scott’s too distracted by those red, swollen lips and mused hair, it takes a moment to put two and two together.

"See you at home?"

"Uh- Yeah."

"Good."

Long fingers curl around the back of Scott’s neck and pull him down into a kiss that’s anything but sweet. Scott pretends he can’t taste his foster father on Pietro’s lips and that it doesn’t make his blood boil in all the wrong ways.

—

"I can’t believe what a fucking whore you are!” Scott shouts. “You slept with my fucking dad!”

"Well maybe if you were around, I wouldn’t have to!”

Scott’s nostrils flare. There’s a blush starting to spot across Pietro’s cheekbones, the same one he gets when he’s aroused.

"I’m sorry I have a real job instead of a glorified hobby."

He knows he’s being mean. The only paintings Pietro doesn’t manage to sell are the ones he wants to keep. Most of them are for Scott, done in colours he can actually see. He isn’t sure when Pietro punches him but as he lands on the coffee table, he thinks he probably deserves it.

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are to have a guy like me, who’s always around when you want?”

"Yeah," Scott says, getting back up on his feet, "me and every other guy in the city."

The flush deepens and something cold flashes through Pietro’s eyes. It’s not that Scott cares Pietro sleeps around. Hell, he doesn’t even care he slept with Charles. He actually kind of likes it. But when they fight, it just always winds up being the first thing he brings up.

"If most of your dick wasn’t in your personality, I wouldn’t have to get other guys to satisfy me.”

It’s low, but Scott can go lower.

"And if you weren’t such a loose slut, maybe you could actually feel it.”

He’s expecting the hit this time. Scott has no idea how - practice, maybe - but he manages to grab Pietro around the waist and slam him down against the coffee table. There’s a loud cry and the wood cracks, but the table doesn’t give.

"I thought you liked it when I was a slut.”

"Only when you’re my slut."

Scott pins Pietro down, but he doesn’t take it well. Pietro headbutts Scott right in the nose with a frustrated sound.

"You bitch!"

The last word is punctuated by a punch to that pretty face. Blood spots along Scott’s knuckles. Long legs wrap around his waist. For a second, he can feel Pietro’s cock against his. They’re both getting hard from the adrenaline. But then Scott is flipped over onto the floor and it’s his turn to be pinned down. He’s sure he can feel the bruises blossoming across his back.

"You’re just pissed I didn’t let you watch this time."

"Why would I want to watch you whore yourself out? You fucking desperate little slut.”

Pietro’s fist sinks into Scott’s gut. He’s nice enough to avoid the ribs this time. Not that Scott can much appreciate it.

"I might be desperate but at least I’m not a filthy fucking pervert!”

Scott yanks Pietro’s hair back. He’s been training how to fight for years but all he can think about is that hard thigh pressing against his cock.

"I might be a pervert but at least I’m not the one pinning for daddy’s cock."

Scott only just manages to move his head out of the way of a punch that cracks the hardwood and would have definitely broken his nose. The relief is only short lived. A second later, he’s being thrown across the room into a wall. Something cracks and Scott really hopes it’s the wall.

"Is that it?" He gasps. "Your daddy won’t fuck you so you go to mine?"

He’s already ducking before the words are out. Home Depot is making a killing off them, he thinks.

Pietro pulls his arm from the newly-formed hole. He feels himself being pressed flush against the drywall. He lets out a small cry but it doesn’t make Scott pull away. Instead, his arms are wrenched up above his head. A hard cock presses against his ass and lips press against the spot behind an earlobe.

"I’m your daddy now," Scott says. His voice comes out raspy and it’s only a little intentional. "Daddy’s going to take good care of his pretty little girl."

Pietro moans and shudders. His hips press back into Scott’s before he can help himself.

"There’s a good girl."

Scott’s fingers come down to undo Pietro’s impossibly tight jeans. He lets go of Pietro’s wrists, only to find himself being elbowed in the ribs. With a loud curse, Scott smashes Pietro’s pretty face into the wall.

"You’re getting punished for that," Scott growls.

The ache in his ribs only makes him harder. His fingers grab a fistful of Pietro’s hair. The silver is damp with sweat. He drags Pietro to the bedroom, ignoring the pained cries spilling past swollen lips. He throws him onto the bed and manhandles him into position. There’s a tie hanging off the headboard. Dark red and gorgeous against white skin. He ties Pietro’s hands to one of the bars tight enough that it won’t come loose easy but not so tight as to cut off circulation.

"Such a pretty little bitch. And all mine."

Scott dips his head down to press a rough kiss to Pietro’s mouth. Teeth come down on his lower lip, hard. He pulls back with a pained cry and slaps him hard across the face. Pietro whimpers and Scott slaps him again.

"Fuck you," Pietro cries. "Fuck you!”

Pietro’s jeans are yanked down past his hips. He kicks a little but Scott still manages to get them down off his legs. It’s all just play. Pietro is hard and throbbing and he wants more.

Light blue panties are shoved into his mouth. It shouldn’t make his cock twitch the way it does. He puts up one finger, a silent indication to keep going.

He looks like a fucking treat, Scott thinks. Wrists bound, face red and bruising, mouth gagged, legs forced apart. And of course the hard cock begging for more. Scott’s fingers dig into a bruise. The whine almost makes him shudder.

"Fucking bitch. You stupid little slut. You want to be fucked so bad? Fine."

Scott rips Pietro’s shirt off. Pietro shrieks something at him through the fabric and Scott knows he’s going to get punched for this. But oh, Pietro looks too good for him to care right now. He can see bruises starting to show. He thumbs over one just under his ribs.

His hands move lower until he’s cupping that tight ass. He shoves Pietro’s legs up with a sharp order to keep them there.

"Such a pretty ass. No wonder everyone wants a piece."

He rubs Pietro’s ass before giving him a few hard spanks. Each muffled cry makes them both that much harder. His fingers move down to rub at the tight pucker between his ass cheeks. The muscle gives a soft twitch.

"Tight little bitch."

Scott spits on Pietro’s hole before grabbing the lube shoved under a pillow. He pours more than enough onto his fingers and over the exposed pucker. It’s cold and Pietro shivers a little.

Pietro’s more than turned on enough that Scott has little trouble shoving two fingers deep inside him. Scott stretches him fast and hard, the way he knows he likes it, occasionally jabbing at his sweet spot. He watches Pietro writhe and press his hips up for more. The moans are muffled by the panties. The sight of him makes Scott even harder.

Scott withdraws his fingers with a wet sound. He watches Pietro’s muscles clench in an attempt to feel full again. His clothes are tossed onto the floor. Long fingers scramble for a condom.

Pietro whines and nudges him with a foot, trying to speak through the makeshift gag.

"You want me to go bareback? You’ve been wearing a condom with everyone else, right?"

Pietro nods at both questions. It’s only a precaution, his immune system is too good. But it’s one of their conditions for allowing Pietro to sleep around so he does it, even though he so prefers to forgo one.

Long legs are pushed back again. Scott guides his lubed cock between Pietro’s ass cheeks, lining himself up with the pink, twitching hole. A quick glance up at Pietro’s hands shows a raised index finger. Scott wastes no more time. He grabs Pietro’s legs and slams in all the way, fast and hard and just the way Pietro likes it.

"Loose little slut," Scott moans, even as muscles clench tight around him. "You like that? You like daddy’s cock up your tight little ass?"

He slams into the tight body again and again, fucking him hard enough that the headboard slams against the wall on each thrust. It’s almost painful, especially with the bruises already on their skin, but it still feels so good. The friction against Scott’s cock has him moaning into Pietro’s neck. A hand fists into silver locks.

"Slutty little bitch," he gasps. "Such a fucking greedy slut, aren’t you?"

Pietro moans and nods in agreement. He’s absolutely insatiable and he knows it. There’s something about sex that has him always wanting it. And he loves it like this. Scott’s thrusts are ruthless, sending sharp sparks of heat through his their bodies. It hurts in the best possible way and Pietro doesn’t think he can hold out much longer.

"Getting close? Fuck, me too. Oh, God…"

It’s too hot and too tight in all the best ways. The pressure keeps building in Scott’s balls and stomach and he feels it in his fucking toes as they start to curl. His grip on Pietro’s grip tightens until it brings tears to the speedster’s bright blue eyes. Pietro’s hips are rocking to meet his. A particularly tight clench of hot muscle has him falling apart.

Scott barely manages to pull out in time. As much as he loves the sight of his cum leaking out of Pietro’s swollen hole, he likes the sight of him covered in it even more. Thick, white ropes paint over Pietro’s skin with each thrust of Scott’s cock into his hand. Moans of the pretty boy’s name spilled past his lips and he pressed a rough kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"So fucking pretty," he murmurs, dick still pulsating in his fist. "Such a fucking pretty little whore…"

Pietro whines, twisting his hips to get any kind of friction. He’s hard and throbbing, twitching and dripping precum onto his stomach. He nudges at Scott with his legs.

"Don’t worry, baby girl. Daddy didn’t forget about you."

Scott takes hold of Pietro’s cock with one hand, shoving three fingers inside him with the other. The strokes are rough and hard and might not feelt good if Pietro isn’t already so fucking close. The blush that had started at his cheekbones now covers his neck and chest, down to the tight, pink nipples. Scott dips his head down and takes one between his teeth. He’s rewarded with a high sound and a violent jerk of hips.

"There’s a good girl. Come on, cum for daddy. That’s it, yeah."

Pietro’s muscles clench tight around the fingers. It’s almost painful but Scott crooks his fingers up against his sweet spot and he screams through the makeshift gag. White spots dance across his vision and he feels like he’s losing himself in the pleasure, in the feel of those fingers and that hand on his cock and the mouth suckling on hard nipples.

His body goes lax. He looks up at Scott with glassy eyes through tear-damp eyelashes. The panties are pulled from his mouth and his arms are unbound and he’s sore all over but it’s so satisfying. He feels Scott wiping off his chest and stomach with a handful of tissues and he’s pulled in against a warm chest. A soft kiss is pressed to the top of his head.

"You okay?" Scott asks softly, hands rubbing over Pietro’s arms and shouldes.

"Mm… I’m fine."

Scott exhales slowly and buries his face in soft, white hair.

"I’m sorry I missed the gallery. They were showing some of your paintings, weren’t they?"

"Yeah."

"I’m sorry I missed it."

"And I’m sorry I had sex with Xavier. If it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t that good."

"It doesn’t," Scott says dryly.

Pietro laughs and kisses Scott in apology. His mouth still tastes like cotton.

"I know it’s not the same, but there’s a Mesopotamia exhibit in New York I could take you to."

"That sounds nice."

Pietro smiles up at him. He lets Scott wipe the few stray tears that escaped from the corners of his eyes.

"You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful and I love you."

And Pietro beams a little, blue eyes watering all over again.

"I know. I love you, too. Even if you are a dumbass."

Scott pulls the sheets up around them and closes his eyes. Pietro’s warm and soft against him. Beneath the smell of sweat and blood and sex, there’s paint and linen and strawberry shampoo. It’s nice, and he wants to enjoy it while he can.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at mechanicalpoet.tumblr.com.


End file.
